


Blood and Water

by lizzieonawhim



Category: Dames & Dragons (Podcast)
Genre: ? I think? I think this counts as body horror, Alternate POV, Angst, Body Horror, Extremely Fucked-Up Family Dynamics, F/M, Falen Is Sad And Has Low Self-Esteem, Gen, I was mostly focused on how miserable Falen must be right now, I'm sorry Slake! I'll try to do better by you in the future!, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slake is nonbinary and also a cinnamon roll, also I don't think ANYONE has written fanfiction about Slake yet and that is a freaking CRIME, and suddenly I feel bad for what a minor role they play in this, fart jokes abound but also the story is really good, for those who have no idea what the fuck this is about, lots of blood, oh well, please just give it a listen you won't regret it, please listen to Dames and Dragons it's so good, someone please give Falen a hug, the pairing is barely there but it is there, tons of queer rep, uuuuuuugh my tags are out of order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzieonawhim/pseuds/lizzieonawhim
Summary: "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."In which Falen beats himself up a lot for needing help.
Relationships: Fran/Falen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	Blood and Water

In retrospect, Falen had no idea what he’d been thinking.

He should have lied, he should have said he was fine, he should have just  _ shut the hell up _ and let the Guardians’ prayers go unanswered like he’d done so many times before. He should have done literally anything other than tell them not to come, but he’d been lying on the floor in his tent, hands pressed over his chest to stem the flow of blood, and when Fran’s worried voice came through asking  _ “Are you okay?” _ all he could do was let out an anguished sob because no,  _ no he was not okay. _ And then he felt a pair of hands that were not his own pressed over an unwounded chest and all he could think of was the blood, Forces there was so much blood, he could feel it spilling over the connection and gods  _ damn _ it there was no way they’d believe it if he lied to them now so he did the only thing he could think of and forced the blood to fall in the shape of words: DON’T COME

Slake said something; Falen didn’t catch what. It didn’t really feel like part of the prayer, anyway; he wasn’t even sure if they had meant to say it. But Corbin’s next words came through loud and clear:  _ “Dear Falen, we’re fucking coming.” _

_ “Just wait, okay? We’re on our way,” _ Fran added. Falen felt his face contort in a new kind of anguish and cut the connection before he could say or do anything even stupider than he already had.

‘Don’t come.’ Gods above, what had he been  _ thinking? _ As if the Guardians had ever done a single goddamn thing he said. When he thought about it for a minute, Falen realized there was literally no worse message he could have sent. He burned with shame at the realization that he’d lost control of the prayer, a mistake he hadn’t made since he was a toddler. If his father ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.

His father. Falen shuddered at the memory of Torvah standing over him, knife in hand. Then he groaned as even that small movement made his wound ache and gush with renewed fervor. The whole night felt like some kind of horrible fever dream. Falen wished he had blacked out, wished he could have missed even a moment of it. His memory felt like a broken mirror, reflecting shards of what had happened, some distorted, some blurry, some out-of-place from when he knew they must have happened. Falen thought it was before the -- before, that he had looked over at Orestes and seen the eager look on his face, the bloodlust in his eyes. The sight had hurt more than he had expected. Sure, Falen had known Orestes was no true friend, that their “friendship” was just an idle diversion since Orestes couldn’t kill him (which was his favorite way to spend time with people), but he’d gotten used to it nonetheless. Falen wasn’t used to much affection in his life, so the fact that  _ anyone _ had been paying attention to him had been… he hadn’t realized how much it had meant to him.

And now, even that was gone.

Falen wasn’t a fool. The fact that his f-- that Torvah had tried to sacrifice him meant that his days were numbered. Torvah had decided he could do without the Betrayer in his ranks, and that meant Falen had lost what little favor -- what little  _ protection _ \-- he’d ever had. He wouldn’t last long now. The Guardians were the only people in the world who had ever given enough of a shit about Falen to try and help him, and now they were on their way to get themselves killed, all because Falen lost control over a fucking ouchie.

Falen closed his eyes and felt tears drip down his temples. No wonder he was called the Betrayer. The only real friends he’d ever known, and he had just betrayed them to their doom.

Falen wasn’t sure how long he spent like that, lost in a haze of misery as he waited for his wound to heal and for the other shoe to drop. The tears on his face had long since dried when he heard from outside, “Oh, no! Falen, your friends are here! What am I gonna  _ do?” _

What blood was left inside Falen’s body froze with terror. For a moment that felt like an eternity, he couldn’t move; then suddenly he had no choice, as Orestes came striding into the tent and hauled him out by the arm.

It was  _ pouring _ outside. The rain came down in big fat globs that stung as they pummeled Falen’s already-battered body. Falen collapsed into the mud with a disgusting  _ squelch _ as soon as Orestes released him and looked up in amazement for a moment.  _ Rove? _ he wondered. Had she been freed somehow? Had the Guardians--

The thought of Fran and the others revived Falen’s panic; he looked around. They were nowhere to be seen. He looked up at Orestes, standing over him with a manic grin. Had he done this to get a rise out of Falen? Was he really that bored? Was this just another one of his tricks? Why would he be playing tricks if Falen was doomed anyway? A flicker of hope came to life in Falen’s heart. Maybe he wasn’t doomed. Maybe if he acted like things were normal, Orestes would leave him be.

“This is not,” he managed raggedly, “a funny joke, Orestes.” Gods, his chest felt like it was on fire. “I’m hurt. Just leave me be.”

“Ooh, is somebody sad because Daddy tried to sacrifice you?” Orestes crooned mockingly. “Aww, I’m so  _ sad _ for you!” And with that, he wound up and kicked Falen forcefully in the ribs. Falen grunted and collapsed further, head spinning with pain. He recovered just in time to see Fran come crashing down out of the sky like a new goddess of vengeance, her face a mask of fury as she hurled a shining spear made of ice. It lodged itself into Orestes’ shoulder as she landed and rolled away. A moment later, Slake followed after, slamming their mace down on Orestes head as they made their landing. Looking between them, for a moment Falen felt only a horrible, pathetic gratitude. His friends were here. They cared about him, and they had come to save him.

Then he snapped out of it. You selfish asshole, he told himself. Yeah, great, your friends are here. They came to save your pathetic ass and now they’re going to die.

Orestes was laughing. Falen looked up at him, gut roiling with nausea and fear.

“So is it the blue one or the green one that you like, Falen?” he said conversationally, as if they were just having a nice chat over tea. Falen swallowed and kept his eyes on his brother, afraid to give Fran away. She’d only suffer if he did. “Not really my type, but I guess we’ll see what they look like on the inside.” And with that, he lunged.


End file.
